


medium

by tanyart



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Baby Pictures, Drawing, Established Relationship, M/M, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:57:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren finds Jean's baby pictures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	medium

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Amei's birthday. She requested exactly what the summary says. :')

For all of Jean’s nagging and lectures about the Kirschtein household ground rules, Eren thinks the visit is going really well until he’s caught lounging on Jean’s bed, and Jean proceeds to shriek in horror over nothing.

“Jean, relax! Your mother said I could have the bed.  _You’re_ sleeping on the floor,” Eren says, pointing to the bedroll below him.  He raises his voice, because Jean is still waving his arms and shouting, and Eren can’t understand a word so he goes with the tried and true method of out-shouting him.  “Hey, but if you _want_ to share, I’m pretty sure we can figure it out!”

To prove his sincerity, Eren scoots to the far edge of the bed and pats the space beside him. It’s a good idea.  In fact, Eren thinks it’s very ideal.  He has been looking forward to it for the longest time.

“You ass, of _course_ we’re sharing,” Jean says, sucking in a huge breath before he explodes again, “But where the hell did you find _those_?”

“What, these?” Eren looks down at the album resting in his lap and the line of photographs he had neatly laid out in front of his crossed legs.  Images of Jean in various baby stages gleam back, glossy sepia paper catching the sun’s glare from Jean’s window.  Eren furrows his brow, pressing his lips together in an effort not to smile _too_ much.  “Why?  What’s wrong with-“

Jean makes an impressive flying leap onto the bed, scattering the photographs in one swoop.

The mattress bounces, the album gets tossed off the bed, and Eren ends up with a lap full of Jean instead.  With a wordless noise of protest, Eren leans away, clutching the two photographs that had survived to his chest.

“ _How_ ,” Jean hisses, snatching the photos from Eren’s hands, “did you find them?”

“They were already out and your mother said it was fine!” Eren says, trying to reach over Jean’s sprawled body to retrieve the photos.  He abandons the endeavor after spotting another picture crammed under Jean’s butt.  He pulls it free, careful not to tear the faded paper. Flipping it over, he takes a good long look.

It’s another photo of toddler Jean, perched on a table and caught in the middle of beaming at something in the distance, possibly the photographer.

In his heroic effort to not blurt out _cute_ or any other variations of the word for Jean’s sake, Eren makes a tiny hiccupping sound.  It’s embarrassingly squeaky, but not as embarrassing as the squawk Jean gives when he discovers which picture Eren is looking at.

“Stop!” Jean shouts, sounding pained.   He wiggles his head through the circle of Eren’s arms and glares, completely red in the face.  He’s given up trying to take back the photographs.  There are too many all around them, and Jean changes tactics, attempting to distract Eren by nuzzling against his cheek, but it’s no use.  “C’mon, let’s do something else.”

“Not yet.  Kissing can wait,” Eren says, uninterested and pushing Jean’s head away.  He takes another look at the picture, marveling at the smile on Jean’s young, chubby toddler face.  It’s not an expression he has ever seen on Jean, something that open and bright.  He lowers the photograph, turning it over so that Jean can see it too.  He points insistently, jamming is his finger into the paper so hard he almost crinkles it.  “This one’s my favorite.  I love it.”

The angry look in Jean’s eyes goes out like a light and his expression is positively baffled before it turns into a strange mixture of happy and incredulous.  Jean sinks down, burying his face into his hands and moaning.

“No.  Shut up. It’s not…” he mumbles.  “I’m not… I don’t.  I’m.  …Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Eren says, finally putting the photograph away.  He glances down at the top of Jean’s head, currently hidden in his lap in overdramatic shame and agony.  Eren frowns, pulling his legs out from underneath Jean.

“Ugh,” says Jean as Eren’s bare feet brush against his face. He rolls to the side, settling on his back, and half-heartedly collects the photographs.

“Can I keep a picture?” Eren asks.

“Seriously?  Wouldn’t you want a newer one?” Jean says, and even though he claims to be embarrassed about his pictures, he flips through a couple of them with an amused look.  He looks at Eren.  “Or how about we take a photograph of us?”

Eren feels his face heat up.  That _would_ be nice.  “Yeah! That’d be great.  But I still want one of your baby ones, if it’s fine with your folks.”

Jean flings his arm across Eren’s lap.  “Eren, why would you even want to.”

“I don’t have any baby photographs of myself,” Eren replies, reaching for the picture again.  He stares, frowning. “Well.  I don’t have them anymore, I mean.  Otherwise, I’d trade.”

Jean goes quiet for a moment.  It’s one of those thoughtful silences that probably means he’s overthinking something, but he answers before Eren can interrupt him.

“Sure.  Go ahead and take that one,” he says.

“Amazing.  You think I’m weird, I can hear it in your voice.”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Jean scoffs, but he pats one of Eren’s legs and neatly rolls off the bed to the bedroll below as the sounds of his mother’s footsteps approach from behind the closed door.

There is a knock before Jean’s mother enters the room, but if Mrs. Kirschstein notices how Eren can’t seem to hide his grin over a stupid baby picture of her son, she only smiles back and tells them to help with dinner.

* * *

Jean’s bed is small, but it only makes things more interesting when they turn in for the night.  Eren is pressed to Jean’s side, halfway between wearily drifting off from all the excitement of meeting Jean’s parents and being alert to the feeling of laying in Jean’s bed.  It’s different from all the other times he’s slept with Jean in the military barracks.  The bunks aren’t as comfortable, obviously, but it also has never been this overwhelming, like there’s a new sense of secured privacy and quiet intimacy Eren has never experienced before.

Eren closes his eyes, lulled by the rhythmic scratching of Jean writing in his journal.  It goes on for a few minutes, but then the sound of Jean’s pencil changes, from the short strokes of words to something longer, more smooth and moving across the paper in varied directions. 

_A drawing_ , Eren realizes, opening his eyes.  He props up on his elbows, peering at Jean’s notepad.

Jean immediately stops and scowls.  He lowers his pencil, the charcoal point digging into his thumb in nervous habit, but instead of hiding the drawing like he usually does, he hands Eren the notepad, looking more frustrated than pleased.

“It’s just a sketch,” he explains.  “And I’m kind of out of practice.  You know, with the missions and stuff.”

 Eren stares at the drawing, sitting all the way up.

“Is this me?” he asks, confused.  He has _seen_ Jean’s drawings before, usually after a lot of bribes that involve kisses or chores, and he knows Jean has an eye for detail and faces, but the drawing of him is distinctively off.  A rounder face, bigger eyes.  And an earnest toothy grin, which surprises Eren.

“As a kid, yeah,” Jean says, gaze sliding off to the side before it snaps back with more determination.  “I’m only guessing, obviously.  It’s not hard.  You look like a baby anyways.”

Eren hits him with the notepad, though not the side with the drawing.  Jean laughs, rude and obnoxious, but he gently pushes the pad to Eren’s lap, fussing with the pencil and making microscopic corrections with feather-light strokes.

“It’s not a photograph,” he continues, brow furrowing in concentration.  He glances at Eren, considering something before he brushes a stained thumb over a patch of Eren’s drawn hair to darken it.  “But I guess it’s as close as you can get to having one.  It won’t replace anything though.”

Eren bends his head a little, charmed and faintly embarrassed by the details Jean had put in.  The drawing has got a dimple on his cheek and an excited, happy look that seems familiar, if Eren thinks about some distant part of his old life before the Wall fell.  Eren can’t remember if he _had_ looked like that as a child, but he starts to think it must be awfully close.

“It’s good,” he says.

“Just good?” Jean repeats, offended, but his voice gets a nervous crack to it and Eren snatches Jean’s hand from making any more marks.

“I’m _embarrassed_ , you asshole.  Give me a moment,” Eren says, lifting the notepad over his face to hide it.  The dark lines of the drawing blur in his vision and he’s past caring if Jean sees him crying because it isn’t anything new between them, but _still_ —he’s sad and happy at the same time and he can’t believe how Jean continues to surprise him like this.

“What? Embarrassed about the drawing or-“ Jean forces the notepad away from Eren’s face and blinks in realization. “Oh.”

Eren sniffs once, annoyed, and in the end he doesn’t cry, but Jean seems to sense what’s going on anyway.  Eren hands him back the drawing with a huff.  Jean’s an awful sympathy crier anyway, and the last thing Eren wants is for Jean’s mother to find them both sobbing in bed.

“It’s a fair trade,” Eren says, nodding.  Jean’s picture is already in his pack, tucked inside a tin to keep it safe.  He glances at the drawing again, just to get the feel of it, the bright look and open smile.  He leans over, kissing Jean, and _, maybe_ , he thinks could be that happy again real soon.

Surprised, Jean kisses back, instinctive, but pulls away first to stare.  Eren must have got the expression a little right, because Jean almost gets the same look too, an echo of the grin in the old photograph—though Jean’s smile isn’t as innocent or guileless now as it had been before.

“New picture,” Jean reminds, cheeks coloring, but he leans in again, dropping the notepad to the floor with a quiet laugh.  He smiles, just for Eren.  “We’ll take a new one tomorrow.”

And Eren decides the differences are just as nice after all.


End file.
